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Golf Monthly - - Your View -

One of the at­trac­tions of golf is the talk­ing points it gen­er­ates. A Satur­day four-ball will nor­mally have some­thing of in­ter­est to dis­cuss in the bar: a bril­liant or laugh­ably ter­ri­ble shot; an out­ra­geous piece of good for­tune; or per­haps some­thing out of the or­di­nary. On Cap­tain’s day at Daven­port GC (Poyn­ton, Cheshire) we wit­nessed some­thing very un­usual.

We were re­lax­ing after our round un­der some awn­ings, next to an out­door bar and bar­be­cue serv­ing hot dogs. This hos­pi­tal­ity area was about 70 yards from the 1st tee at vir­tu­ally 90 de­grees to the tar­get line. Nev­er­the­less, one mem­ber man­aged to hit his tee shot into the awn­ings. After a ric­o­chet, his ball came to rest in a box of un­cooked sausages!

After we’d re­cov­ered from the neardeath ex­pe­ri­ence, there fol­lowed some en­ter­tain­ing dis­cus­sions about the cor­rect rul­ing. This in­cluded whether he could clean the ball, given the risk of lis­te­ria/sal­monella on un­cooked meat. Par­al­lels were drawn with Harry Brad­shaw’s “ball in a bro­ken beer bot­tle” at The Open in 1949.

I felt moved to write a poem about this freak event, en­ti­tled Bangers & Mashie Ni­b­lick. In the un­likely event that Golf Monthly starts a ‘Poet’s Cor­ner’, I’ll send it in! Chris Pol­lard, via email

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